


fine.

by memitims



Series: assorted alternate universes [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 16:36:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2075256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memitims/pseuds/memitims
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ian and mickey are waiters in a fancy restaurant. stuff happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fine.

**Author's Note:**

> prompt from anon on tumblr: "an AU where ian and mickey work as waiters in a fancy restaurant and they make fun of the singer that entertains the customers and idk other stuff happens i guess ahah"

Ian wasn’t sure how he felt about the new guy at work. He was great with the customers and he looked damn good in the stuffy tuxedo uniform all the waiters had to wear, but he was weirdly quiet around Ian. Ian could never get him to talk, and Ian always got everyone to talk. 

All in all, Ian was kinda screwed, because the few times he had gotten Mickey to open up, the guy had been funny and witty, but with the slightest bit of a sharp edge, and Ian kinda really wanted to be friends with him and he also had a little bit of a crush and he had no fucking idea what to do. Ian was also screwed, because Mickey seemed to be impervious to his charm. Like, he never returned Ian’s grins or laughed at his stupid jokes, he just nodded politely and looked the other way (Mickey looked away, because that was the only way he could hide the upward quirk of his lips, hide the quick flash of teeth across his face, but Ian couldn’t see that, didn’t know that Mickey secretly thought he was fucking hilarious). 

“Wow,” Ian said, one night, while staring up at the stage where that night’s entertainment were plucking away at their instruments, “These guys kinda suck,” because they really did. 

Mickey grunted next to him, sneaking a glance up at the stage. Usually they had pretty mellow performers, to set the mood, or what the fuck ever (their manager, Karen, was kinda a hardass about the music, so Ian wasn’t sure how they ended up with a bunch of guys senselessly banging on their drums).

“Karen’s gonna be pissed,” Mickey said, like he could read Ian’s mind.

Ian laughed. “No shit.” He watched Mickey out of the corner of his eye, watched the way his eyes crinkled a little at the edges, and Ian was really in for it. Except, Ian Gallagher was not one for letting dumb crushes get the best of him, so he decided to fucking do something about the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about Mickey’s hands and his eyes and his mouth.

He waited until they were both on break, and Ian walked outside to the alley behind the restaurant to find Mickey leaning against the cold bricks, the dark lines of his suit lit up in the dim lamplight, a cigarette between his lips, and Ian took a deep, steadying breath. The suit was bad enough inside, but out here it was downright sinful. 

“Hey,” Ian said softly. Mickey looked up, smoke curling around his face like a ghost, and he nodded at Ian. He plucked the cigarette out from his mouth and held it out towards Ian, the offering in his hand steady and sure, like every other fucking thing about Mickey. Ian shook his head though, he’d quit smoking long ago, so Mickey shrugged and withdrew his hand.

“Doing anything after work?” Ian asked, leaning his back against the wall next to Mickey and turning to face him, their eyes gently sparking when they met, like something out of a goddamn rom-com. Ian might’ve laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, he was practically head over heels for a guy who barely talked to him, but Ian’s life had always been something of a tragic comedy. 

“Nah,” Mickey said. 

Ian smiled. He was pretty sure he didn’t imagine the way Mickey’s eyes caught on his lips, watching them part and stretch upwards into a small smile. “Wanna grab a bite to eat, or something?”

Mickey groaned, and Ian’s breath caught for a moment, scared that he had said the wrong thing, scared that Mickey was gonna punch him out just for having the mere thought of going on a date together, because Ian had always been one to jump to conclusions and sometimes he forgot that it got him nowhere in life. “If I have to see the inside of another fuckin’ restaurant, I just might kill myself. How about a movie?”

Ian sighed in relief and nodded. “Sounds like a great idea.” He knocked his shoulder against Mickey’s. “As long as you don’t have shitty taste in movies.”

Mickey made a horrified noise. “As if,” he scoffed, “You’re the one who was rockin’ out to Justin Timberlake in the kitchen the other day. I’m not the one with shitty taste.”

“Shit,” Ian breathed, mildly embarrassed, but also somewhat amused. That was probably the most Mickey had ever said to him, and of course it was to criticize his taste in music. “You saw that?”

“You’re a fuckin’ horrible dancer. Even worse than those dumbasses with the drums inside.”

“Take that back,” Ian cried, shoving his shoulder gently into Mickey’s. Mickey shook his head, because he was a stubborn little shit. “I’ll pay for our tickets.”

Mickey laughed, a quick little breath that sent Ian’s head spinning. “Not fucking worth it, Gallagher.”

“Fine,” Ian said, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ll go see the most fuckin’ expensive movie. 3D and shit.”

“Fine,” Mickey replied, a small smile spreading across his face.

\---

The decided on one of the new superhero movies, and Ian held on to Mickey’s every word, because the guy was talking, and smiling, and even laughing a little bit. If Ian had known all he needed to do to get Mickey to open up was invite him on a date, he would've done that a hell of a lot sooner.  
They fought over the popcorn and they fought over where to sit in the theater and they fought over the armrests, because Mickey was annoying and infuriating and Ian was having the time of his life. 

Ian accidently grabbed Mickey’s hand halfway through, as he was reaching for his soda, but it felt nice, their fingers tangled together, and Mickey just glared at him but didn’t pull away, so Ian counted that as a win. They probably looked pretty fucking weird, two guys in fancy suits, barely holding hands in the darkness of the theater, but Ian wasn’t complaining. 

When it was all over, Ian walked Mickey to his car, and in a brief moment of bravery, pushed Mickey up against the passenger side door. Mickey looked surprised, for a second, and he raised his eyebrows, practically daring Ian to do something, anything. 

“I’m going to kiss you,” Ian said, not at all smoothly.

“Fine,” Mickey said.

“Fine,” echoed Ian.

And Ian kissed him, pressing him up against the cold metal of the car, and Mickey ran his hands over Ian’s hair. Mickey tasted like butter and popcorn and cigarette smoke, and Ian couldn’t get enough, because Mickey might’ve been kinda quiet, but he sure as hell knew how to do other things with his mouth. They broke apart after a while, breathing softly in the darkness.

“I definitely like you,” Ian said, out of the blue, and mostly to himself.

Mickey narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“I wasn’t sure what to think about you, at first. But I definitely like you.”

“Oh,” Mickey breathed. “Good.”


End file.
